


Full Circle

by Kemmasandi



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Multi, Other, Postwar AU, Predacons Rising, Trine - Freeform, and Megatron is the wrecker of valves, in which Optimus is aliiiiiiiive and nothing hurts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-25
Updated: 2013-11-25
Packaged: 2018-01-02 14:24:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1057831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kemmasandi/pseuds/Kemmasandi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just occasionally, people do nice things for an old warlord.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Full Circle

**Author's Note:**

> gokuma sent: _"AU prompt: Optimus/Megatron/Ratchet - "Predacons Rising" ends with the three mechs forming a happy trine (possible robot babies in the future) ;)"_
> 
> Don’t mention robot babies to me if you want any semblance of plot whatsoever, ‘cuz my mind fixates on said robot babies and then I can’t think of anything else. :3
> 
> Imagine therefore that there is a lot of plot and temper and agonising over whether or not to do the thing leading up to this stage. Headcanons that Unicron’s possession left Megs with a fuckton of neurocircuit damage and that his heel-face turn didn’t go exactly as it did in Predacons Rising - this was… more confused and pained. Optimus, being the ridiculously optimistic and forgiving person he is, didn’t want to just let Megs disappear off into the wilderness (and Ratchet agreed, although for rather more pessimistic reasons)… So they each tried to work out what’s going on and how they’re going to get on with life now that the war’s not getting in the way.
> 
> And, somewhere along the way, threesomes happened. Wonderful.

* * *

FULL CIRCLE

 

Gone were the days of landing with a transformation and solid drop in mid-flight. Megatron taxied sedately along the deserted expressway, engines roaring as he bled off the last of his speed.

He transformed into a crouch, one hand braced against the road as the other hovered above his bent knee, uncertain whether or not he’d require the extra point of balance until all his parts came to a halt and he lifted his helm to stare out over the broken Kaoni horizon. The sun was setting just behind the shattered stump of the Cataract, casting long fingers of gold across the cityscape. When Megatron rose to his feet and turned, his shadows stretched out for almost a league behind him.

A gentle touch against his mind brought him back to himself, having lingered too long. Still waters echoing with the ring of kindness brushed around him, at once very like and completely dissimilar to the watery grave from which Unicron had plucked him.

He straightened, turned his helm towards the creeping lavender dusk in the east. Kaon sat very near to Cybertron’s south pole. It had been day for almost a quarter-vorn now. This would be the first true sunset of the vorn.

Comms crackled. He turned towards the closest offramp - it was a forty-mechanometer jump to the pedestrian level, not more than five times his own height; a jump he’d been able to make in his sleep before  _Unicron_  - and strode down it, stiffness pricking in his ancient hydraulics. Age was catching up to the old warlord.

 _« Are you coming home, or have you extinguished up there? »_  Ratchet sent, background clangs and scrapes in the tramsmission suggesting that he was already following through on his threat to clean up Megatron’s lair.  _« There’s a wave of pulsar radiation heading our way, and I highly suggest you and your uniquely susceptible processor get inside, under cover, **before**  it hits. » _

 _« I don’t plan to extinguish for a long while yet »_  Megatron sent back, a halfsparked sneer baring his dente.  _« I was simply… appreciating the view. Surely you of all mecha can relate to that. »_

Ratchet’s reply came back with a snippy image file.  _« I’m sure I don’t know what you intend to imply with that. »_

A calming brush of that abyssal spark against his stripped the teeth from Megatron’s irritation. Optimus sent him a private ping of welcome and a short video file. Megatron maximised it to fit his HUD. It showed the dark berthchamber of his current residence, a former storeroom close enough to the sluggishly-burning Smelting Pits that the polar chill of Kaon would not freeze him solid in midwinter. Ratchet knelt on the floor in front of… some mass of metal framework, vaguely rectangular in shape. Megatron set the video playing, and the dulcet tones of Ratchet swearing filled his audials.

 _« We thought the lonely king of Kaon might appreciate a berth sized to fit his stature »_  said Ratchet, sans profanity.  _« I certainly hope you do, because I have spent all joor trying to figure out how to put it all together. Wheeljack’s instructions are worth less than scrap. »_

 _« I see »_  Megatron said, diplomatically.  _« Are you certain Wheeljack is to blame? »_

Ratchet replied with a string of colourful glyphs requesting that he go do something anatomically impossible with rubber tubing and certain parts of the carrier he’d never had. 

Before things got out of hand and Optimus stepped in with his patented Primely disappointment, Megatron cut Ratchet’s tirade off.

 _« I believe I might test your handiwork before I make any final judgements, however. »_  He hauled himself over a crosswalk barrier and dropped two mechanometers to the floor below. Too far down in the Kaoni superstructure and he started having to duck his helm and shoulders as he walked – too many Unicronian additions. (At least, he consoled himself, Optimus Prime had it just as bad.)

There was a short, suspicious silence from the medic, and a longer, expectant one from the Prime.

 _« How so? »_  Ratchet asked.

 _« The usual method. How else? »_  Megatron waited a moment, then sent an illustrative diagram to assist their imaginations. A beat, while they opened and perused the file to their leisure. The calm touch of Optimus’ spark shuddered, a thrill of heat winding through it at the idea of Ratchet sandwiched between them. Ratchet’s spark, already amber-warm and glimmering with a wicked pyrite gleam, twisted with ideas.

 _« Are you quite sure? »_  said Optimus, and despite the caution in his voice Megatron caught an eager undercurrent to his presence in the bond.  _« If it breaks… »_

 _« I believe I have a welder in my subspace »_  Ratchet suggested.  _« Provided we don’t tear the mesh it’s a perfectly easy repair. »_

 _« Torn mesh is the least of what I intend to do to you »_  Megatron said, and had the satisfaction of hearing both of his lovers moan.


End file.
